Little Lion Man
by MagnusPr1m3
Summary: AU. Sherlock and Mycroft did not always hate each other; once, they relied heavily on each other's presence. But, add in a death or three, some drugs, abuse, a homophobic father and a mother with depression and even you might find it hard to look your beloved brother in the face with such a painful reminder in those eyes... Future Johnlock and Mystrade. Rated M in future chapters.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Siger Holmes, as per usual, was the only one awake at two that morning. The Holmes mansion was quiet, minus the footfalls of the man and the occasional creak of an ancient floorboard as he maneuvered to the library. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out his old joints in muscles before he went through with his nightly routine. He forced the big double doors out of his way, tiptoeing in. His tired eyes went to the curled up form lying in front of the fireplace, a smile causing creases to form beside his eyes.

Before the fireplace, with books and papers scattered about him, lay a boy with a head of dark, curly hair, similar to Siger's own, still in his school uniform in a seemingly deep slumber. The head of the Holmes family chuckled at the sight, going and pushing some of the books and notes aside to lie on his side in front of his youngest son. He shut his eyes a little, keeping them just open enough to watch as silver eyes slipped open before a weight was thrown upon him. "Papa!" A small voice giggled in his ear. "Don't sleep on the floor! It's bad for your back!"

Siger helped keep the boy supported on his back as he came to a stand, his son's arms going around his neck and legs around his waist. "As it is for you, Sherlock." He scolded lightly, moving towards the door. "Why are you not in bed, anyways? It is two in the morning. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

He knew why Sherlock was sleeping on the floor of the library, with all of those books and papers scattered about him. Six year-old Sherlock Holmes had been doing so ever since his older brother, Mycroft, had gone off to university, and every night Siger was the one to put him to bed. The books his son grew to love were all from Mycroft's collection; books on astronomy, economics, physics. Not the usual books on pirates or insects that Sherlock always read beforehand. His youngest son missed Mycroft terribly so, and Siger could not blame him after everything that had happened earlier in the year.

"It's Saturday tomorrow, Papa; I don't have school." Sherlock mumbled to his father as Siger exited the library and headed down the hall. "Well, today is Saturday, actually." He chuckled in his father's ear, and Siger could not help but shake his head at the boy's quirkiness. "And I could not sleep! Mummy's been in there all day blubbering by Alli's things."

Siger sighed at that, adjusting his grip on his son. "Has she again?"

"Yes. She's been in Alistair's bed all day, and I can't sleep with her in our- I mean, my room," The six year old corrected himself quietly, snuggling into his father's back. "Can I… Do you think Myc would care if I just slept in his room again tonight?" _Like every other night,_ went unsaid, but they both knew it was there.

"Not at all, but he may not want you to tomorrow night when he gets back for holidays." He trekked through the mansion towards his eldest son's room, listening as Sherlock continued to chattered sleepily in his ear about whatever he read in his brother's books this night. It was sweet, the way Sherlock clung to anything reminding him of his elder brother, but also kind of sad.

They entered the room, and Sherlock immediately got off his dad's back to hurry over to the queen sized bed where his pajamas from the night before were folded neatly. He began to get dressed, and Siger started getting the bed ready for the child. He pulled back the sheets, fluffed the pillows a tad, and then waited to tuck Sherlock in. The boy folded up his uniform and set it on the armoire, then ran and leaped into the bed, scrambling to get under the duvet. Siger laughed at his antics, tucking his son in and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. "Sleep well, Sherlock. Tomorrow is a big day."

He left the already sleeping boy with a smile, shutting the door softly behind him.

* * *

Seventeen year old Mycroft Holmes arrived home ahead of schedule that day. The driver pulled up by the front door, allowing him to hop out with his bag at about seven o'clock instead of the originally intended noon with a tired grin on his face. He was home after so long. With a quick nod of thanks to the Holmes family's longtime driver, he ascended the stares to enter through the ornate door and hurry to his room. No one would be up just yet, so he figured he could get a few moments shut eye before being swarmed by his family.

He slipped quietly up the stairs and down the hall that lead to his room, being extra quiet by his younger brother's room; if he woke Sherlock up now, he would never get a moment's peace. He winced as he pushed his door open painfully slow and it creaked on its old hinges, swearing softly under his breath. He paused once it was fully open, listening for the pitter-patter of small feet along wooden floors. When there were none, he hurried into his room and shut the door behind him.

"Myc?" A soft voice asked, startling the teen. Mycroft whirled around to see silver eyes hidden beneath a mess of dark curls peeking out from under the duvet on his bed, looking ever hopeful. It seemed he would not be getting a little bit of extra rest, although he did not mind.

Mycroft smiled at his brother, nodding. "The one and only, Sherly. What are you doing sleeping in my bed?" He dropped his bag on the floor and slipped his blazer off, setting it atop the suitcase. He went and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his shoes off as Sherlock scuttled out from under the duvet to sit beside him.

"I missed you, and Mummy's been in there blubbering all over Alli's things." Sherlock waited for his brother to get more comfortable before throwing his arms around him in a tight hug. "It's been terribly lonely, Myc," his young voice mumbled into the soft fabric of Mycroft's shirt.

Mycroft ran a hand throw his auburn hair, sighing. He returned Sherlock's embrace, rubbing light circles in his brother's back soothingly. "I know, Sherly, I know." He extracted his brother from, earning a pout from the other who appeared about to protest until Mycroft made him lie back down against the pillows. He pulled the duvet down so he could crawl underneath it, waiting for Sherlock to follow suit. It had been so very long since Sherlock had slept with him, and even if Mycroft found it annoying because he was so much older, he did not mind. He pulled the blanket over them and allowed the six year old to cuddle into his side. "Go to sleep, Sherlock. I'll still be here when you wake up, I promise."

"But-" Sherlock began to complain, but was cut off by his own yawn. "But I'm not that tired. Really, Myc… 'M not tired…" His eyes slid shut and Mycroft's smile broadened a bit. He lightly kissed the top of his little brother's head and forced his own breathing to slow, soon following after Sherlock into a world where they did not have a dead brother, a still grieving mother, and could be happy.

_Together._

* * *

A/N: So, this is my latest project. DON'T KILL ME. If you read any of my other fics, I'm sorry! I'll be updating everything within the next few days, including this. Anyways, I have big things in mind for this. BIG THINGS. As always, I obviously don't own bbc sherlock, or just the characters. Please review~

-Kevyn


	2. Chapter 1 : Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 1 : Your Guardian Angel

Mycroft awoke a few hours later, Sherlock still curled into his side. He did his best to slip free of his little brother's arms without waking the six year old, creeping out of the bed and into the ensuite bathroom. He turned on the faucet and let cool water run for a moment before cupping his hands and splashing his face with the water. It sent a chill through his body, jerking him completely from his still groggy state. He reached for a nearby rag and patted his skin dry, setting it down to take in his experience.

His hair looked rather unruly at the moment, the auburn locks not slicked down so they curled a bit and stuck out randomly. He was starting to develop bags under his eyes from late nights looking over note- although it was unnecessary because he had an eidetic memory- and his cheekbones had never seemed so prominent. He looked like death. His mother was bound to scold him and force feed him like she did whenever given the chance.

He crept back out into his room and grabbed a fresh pair of trouser, a plain white button down, and a jumper to pull over it before heading back into the bathroom to shower quickly. His mother would be up and about soon, as well as his father. Then little Sherlock would awaken as well and demand every moment of Mycroft's attention for himself. He would take advantage of this time while he could to clear his mind before having to spend time with the whole family like he so dreaded.

Mycroft did not dread being with his family because of who they were; Sherlock could not help being quirky, and he could not at all blame his mum for still being saddened over their recent loss. It was just that he had to be so strong for the rest of them. He hated it. Mycroft was not allowed to breakdown, to show how much the earlier events of the year had bothered him. He could not show how it bothered him that Sherlock still struggled with sleeping in that room by himself, or that their father appeared wholly unaffected by the whole event.

He scrubbed at his hair in the shower like if he were to wash his hair with more vigor then it would somehow clear his mind. But no matter how hard he tried he still remembered the little boy who had been identical to the one sleeping in his bed currently. He still remembered the two young boys he had such a hard time keeping track of because of their wild antics, the little boys he had read _Treasure Island _to every night because they loved pirates so much and, "Myc, you read it best!" His heart ached as he tried to force the other voice that was so like yet also extremely unlike Sherlock's from his head as it called his name. It was not working, though. No matter how hard he scrubbed it all stayed there, unrelenting as it assaulted him with the foulest of memories.

He recalled when things got bad; on January sixth, of all days. Alistair and Sherlock had been so happy, so bright and excited to be celebrating yet another birthday. They were all going out to the movies that day because a new American film was in the cinema that they both wanted to see, something from Disney that Mycroft could not bring himself to remember. The film was as good as any child's movie would be for a sixteen year old, which he had been at the time. After the film they all went to the park, Sherlock and Alistair pulling Mycroft into their silly games of make-believe and hide-and-seek.

Mycroft's body began to shake with sobs as he was forced to mentally relive the moment when he could not find Alistair or Sherlock. He looked all over the park, calling out for the young boys. _"Come on, Alli, Sherly. It is not funny anymore, come out." _He had rushed to his parents, eyes wide with panic as he apologized over and over again. His dad had laughed, _laughed._

_ "They're just being boys, Mycroft. You know how those two get." _He had said, dismissing Mycroft to continue his hunt while his father and mother sat on a park bench and chatted.

It was much different than when Sherlock and Alistair usually did this, however. Mycroft had felt it deep in his bones, just as he could now, curling in on himself against the wall of the shower. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as the sound of sirens echoed in his ears. He had run so fast, faster than he thought possible for himself, to where the lights flashed and people were gathering. He had then been able to make out Sherlock's piteous wails for his twin, as fresh as the day they were made.

It had all been his fault. Perhaps, if he had kept a closer eye on the two, told them to stay away from the street-

"Mycroft?" Sherlock's sheepish call from the now cracked bathroom door snapped him from his thoughts. Mycroft stood up as straight as he could, silencing his crying as he turned off the shower. He got out and wrapped a towel around his waist before telling Sherlock it was alright to come in. The child entered somewhat cautiously, looking mildly afraid of being there with Mycroft. "A-are you alright? I heard you crying…"

Mycroft gave his younger brother a stiff nod. "I'm fine, Sherlock. Now, go wait outside, I have to get dressed." He ushered Sherlock back to the door, turning when the young boy was mostly out of it.

"I don't blame you." The door was then shut, and Mycroft could easily make out the sound of Sherlock hurrying out of his room and into his own. He shook his head, trying to keep the emotions from coming swarming back because of such an innocent statement. Sherlock was always so insightful, it was nearly impossible to hide things from his little brother. The six year old also did not know when it was a better idea to keep his mouth shut, being only six after all, and did not fully understand the impact that his simple sentence nearly had on Mycroft.

He would emerge from his room thirty minutes later looking no less worse for wear, minus slightly red tinged eyes.

* * *

Violet Holmes was extremely good at putting on the happy face when needed; she did it every day, in fact. Ever since January sixth that year, she had fine-tuned it and learned to only let it slip when in the confines of her own home and when they did not have some important guests over. And, somewhere in the depths of her mind, Mycroft had become just that; an important guest. So she exited her room that morning in her nicest, but still casual, dress and headed down to the dining room with a lovely smile on her face and a hole in her heart.

Siger was nowhere to be found after having confronted her last night, much to her chagrin. He had threatened her with a trip to the loony bin if she did not get her act together. It was not her fault, though! She could not help but feel saddened by the loss of her son, her dear baby boy. Not everyone was as heartless as Siger. Was she not allowed to grieve anymore? It had only been eleven months since the incident!

When she entered the dining room, her ears were immediately assaulted by Sherlock's excited chatter directed at her oldest son. She directed a bright smile at the calls of "Mummy!" from both of her children and the arms flung around her. She chuckled, patting Sherlock's unruly curls lightly before stepping back from Mycroft and Sherlock to look them over.

She frowned, "Mycroft, have you lost weight? Dear God, lad, you were skinny enough before!" She tugged at the loose jumper that hung off his slender frame, huffing. "This will not do! What happened to my sweets-loving, little boy?"

Mycroft gave a pout at that, looking down at himself. He did not look any smaller than before, and he was sure he still weighed at least 140… "I have been busy studying. I eat, mummy, do not worry about that. Simply stress from my studies and such." He did his best to ignore Sherlock when he cleared his throat and gave Mycroft a look. He shot his brother a quick glare, motioning for Sherlock to shut up as their mother rushed about the dining room.

"Well, obviously you haven't eaten enough. Don't worry, we'll get you nice and healthy no time!" Violet Holmes began ushering servants this way and that, requesting food for her eldest child.

"Mum, I already ate breakfast! Just ask Sherlock! We have both already eaten!" Mycroft followed his mother about the room, trying to calm her. He grabbed at her, gently turning her to face him. He was about a foot taller than her, having to lean down a bit to look at her in her eyes. "It's fine. Sherlock and I are going to go play down by the brook on the grounds while Father is off at work, we'll be back for lunch, and you can feed us all you want then. I promise." He smiled at her sweetly, ignoring Sherlock's grumbling behind him.

Violet let out a resigned sigh, a small smile stretching across her lips. Her head gave a tiny nod, "Alright, boys. But you better be at the table, ready for a late lunch at 1:30 sharp." She received two, 'Yes, mummy's, and the two were on their way.

"Is she really going to make us eat a lot, Myc?" Sherlock asked as he and Mycroft walked towards the back of the grounds. He ran through the patches of flowers, just to spite the new gardener and beekeeper who had not allowed Sherlock by the beehives he loved so much. "I don't like it when she makes me eat so much."

The auburn teen laughed at his siblings whining and antics as he stomped on certain patches of flowers and herbs, "Neither do I, Sherly, but she'll probably forget later. You know how Mummy is." He smirked, just as the sound of running water hit his ears. He immediately broke into a run, "Beat you to the brook, Sherlock!" He called over his shoulder, earning an indignant look from the six year old.

"No fair!" Sherlock sprinted after Mycroft as fast as he could, his small feet pounding hurt against the ground and kicking up dirt in his wake. He could not fight his laughter back though as his brother slipped and tumbled down the small slope leading down to the water source, skidding to a stop right before it. "That's what you get for cheating, Myc!" He yelled down, peeking over the ridge.

He kneeled over the edge of the little hill, searching for his older sibling. "Myc? Mycroft, where are you? This isn't fun-" He yelped as his hands and arm slid forward in the wet earth, body soon tumbling after them and into the shallow brook below. He gasped as the cool water touched his skin, not expecting to go under mere moments later. The icy liquid filled his mouth, his nose, his throat. He choked on it as a firm hand grasped his arm and pulled him up. He reached out and clung to the person holding him up in the water, immediately discovering it to be Mycroft.

Mycroft pulled Sherlock completely out of the water, picking him up and wrapping his arms around him tightly. He ran a hand through Sherlock's damp curls soothingly, patting his back as he coughed the dirty water up over his shoulder. "Shh, it's alright, Sherly. I got you, you're alright. You weren't even under that long, it's alright. You're going to be fine." The teen received a shaky nod in response, small fists balling up his now soaked and mud covered jumper. He continued on for what felt like an eternity as Sherlock let out tiny whimpers into his neck, tears and dingy brook water collecting there before trickling down his torso. "You don't need to worry, Sherlock. I have you. I'll always have you; it's what big brothers are for."

_But you were not there for Alistair, now were you, Mycroft? _His thoughts taunted, as Sherlock's tears began to subside, sniffles growing quieter. _Always there for Sherlock because he was littler and had more health issues. Yet, you let Alistair die. You let your little brother _die, _Mycroft. You could've found him, you _should have _found hi-_

"I-I know," Sherlock muttered, struggling in Mycroft's now tightened grasp. Mycroft loosened it as soon as he noticed, although he still held his younger brother aloft. "Y-you and Alli were always there. N-now, I've g-got just you…" His words were filled with such sadness for a six year old boy.

Mycroft shook his head, "No, not just me, Sherlock. You've still got Alistair; he's just… He's a guardian angel now."

"Like in the stories?"

The eldest Holmes child could not stop the chuckle that came from his mouth. He nodded, waking out of the brook and setting his brother down on the bank, "Yes, Sherlock. Just like in the stories." The broad grin that stretched the still shaking child's face spread to his older brother's at the comment, and the two forgot about Sherlock's little spill and they played make-believe, just like Sherlock and Alistair used to make Mycroft all those months ago.

* * *

_A/N: Hey all! Look! An update! And only a few days after the first upload! That must be a record for me! Anyways, I hope your liking it so far. I have the next few chapters written, and it seems right now that it will be about 20-30 chapters. As always, I don't own it, blah blah blah, et cetera, et cetera. Please review~_

-Kevyn


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